


take all my inhibitions

by enbycupcake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Multi, Queen Padmé, Sith Obi-Wan, Trans Anakin, Trans Character, Trans Obi-Wan, Trans Padmé
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycupcake/pseuds/enbycupcake
Summary: After the Invasion of Naboo, Queen Amidala withdrew her planet from the Republic. Her reasoning? She wouldn't align her people with a government that would happily let them burn.Now, more than a decade later, Anakin Skywalker returns to the planet, trespassing by order of the Jedi Council. He never planned to get arrested and personally seen to by the queen, and despite how he dreamed of it, he had never dared to hope that he'd ever see Padmé in person again. Anakin definitely never imagined that their reunion would turn his world upside down.





	take all my inhibitions

**Author's Note:**

> So I made a post six months ago [here](http://enbycupcake.tumblr.com/post/155697723907/really-random-au-but-imagine-sith-obi-wan-and%22) about Sith!Obi-Wan and Queen Padmé seducing Anakin out of the Jedi Order, and I've written it on and off switching between having Anakin as a Padawan or a Knight. I'm also sick of it in my drafts, so I'm posting it and hoping that not staring at it will make it easier to pick it back up. I did actually have a very rough outline for this story, which is shocking.
> 
> If anyone wants to also write about this idea, go ahead, just link back to my tumblr post and send me a link to your fic! I will happily read Anakin getting seduced out of the Jedi Order.

Padmé’s grown even more beautiful than he could have even imagined, years of hopes and dreams not even a fragment of the reality. Feeling his breath catch, Anakin hastily stands, trying to not embarrass himself further – he does have to explain what he’s doing on her planet and ask to be released – but it’s difficult. Her presence is powerful, regal, her status as queen unmistakable. The softness of her hair, the makeup armor on her face, has Anakin struggling to not stare in awe of her. 

She probably doesn’t even remember him.

Tucking his hands into the fabric of his cloak sleeves, he brings himself to the edge of the ray shield holding him in. Anakin swallows down the compliments he wants to give her, and instead raises his head to maybe look a bit more confident than he feels as she approaches. 

“Ani? Is it you?”

Her saying his name, his nickname he hasn’t heard in so, so long, warms him to his very core. Rubbing his fingers in his cloak, Anakin nods. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, Ani.” She nods to his guard, and the ray shield deactivates around him. “Look how much you’ve grown.”

Hating himself already, unable to stop, Anakin opens his big mouth. “You’ve grown more beautiful, your Majesty.”

“And so have you. But please, it’s just Padmé.”

“Padmé.” The permission makes him smile, the way it sits in his mouth a delight. And then Anakin processes the first half of her words, his face burning. Oh. 

Laughing, Padmé takes him by the elbow. “And you’ll look even better cleaned up. You’re filthy.”

Anakin sputters, both at the compliment and trying to explain why he’s covered in grease and dirt. Padmé’s eyes twinkle at him, amused he can tell, but she doesn’t say anything else. She starts leading him away from his cell, the guard beside them not looking pleased. Anakin, if he weren’t so embarrassed, would probably have smirked at him. As it is, he just wishes he could cool his cheeks. Padmé thinks he’s beautiful. 

The hand on him gives him a squeeze, and Anakin lets his fingers untangle from his cloak. He starts to take note of his surroundings, making a mental map of the passages Padmé leads him through. It’s always a good idea to know the terrain is practically imprinted into his brain. 

The room Padmé stops in front has a beautifully arched door, much more decorative than all the ones Anakin’s seen so far. He assumes it’s her quarters, the assumption supported further when he spots the little keypad on the side. Nervous all over again, Anakin shuffles his feet. She’s showing a lot of trust in him, bringing him straight from a cell to her rooms with less than maybe ten sentences between them. Maybe she thought of him as much as he had thought of her all these years?

Padmé keys in her code, and Anakin pointedly doesn’t look. He wants her to trust him. When the door opens, Anakin gasps; her room is even more elegant than he could have imagined. It’s blue, like the Naboo waters, the space expansive just the same way. Her furniture is hard, designed for a presence more than comfort it looks like. Anakin wants to run his hands against one of the sofas to see. 

His eyes then immediately catch onto a figure entering the greeting room from the hall, a plate of sweet cakes held chest level. The person’s shirtless, Anakin is forced to note. Beside him, Padmé lets out an amused huff. Anakin wants to die; Padmé has a lover, someone comfortable in her space, someone who eats her food, a beautiful person. 

Anakin’s forced out of his negative thoughts when Padmé’s companion raises an eyebrow and looks him over. In the Force, Anakin feels that he’s being probed. Confused, Anakin pushes back. He’s meant with a fierce swirl of overlapping emotions: pleasure, annoyance, anger, curiosity. 

Stumbling back, Anakin pulls himself out of the Force. His cheeks are burning, his heart rate too fast; all of the emotions where focused on him. Padmé’s companion grins at him, feral. The Force around Anakin gets tight, caressing him, before disappearing. Anakin takes a deep breath, unsure if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

He wasn’t expecting anything like this when he came to Naboo.

“And what have you brought in, Padmé?” The voice is posh, an amused lilt to it.

“Obi-Wan, this is Ani. The Jedi that was taken in.”

Coming closer, Obi-Wan shifts his gaze to Padmé. “I gathered. He’s very bright in the Force.”

Anakin shifts, tugging on his cloak sleeves. He can’t help it that his Force signature is how it is. But thinking about it…

“I can’t really sense your sensitivity, though. At all.” Anakin blurts out.

The pleased look Obi-Wan gives him sends warmth throughout his body, just the way Padmé remembering him did. Anakin grips his sleeves tighter; this is really the last thing he needs, nerves hitting him again in front of two people.

“Yes, I’d rather not attract Jedi attention. Their rules about emotion and attachment aren’t really my style, and their distrust of those who aren’t their own are…cumbersome.”

“But you’re not just shielding your presence. You’re…” Anakin takes a second to feel the Force around him, to try to figure out just what exactly is wrong with Obi-Wan’s lack of a Force signature. His lips part in a little ‘oh’ when he figures it out. “You’re hiding in the Force.”

Obi-Wan nods at him, his hand not holding sweet cakes coming to rest on his arm, the one opposite Padmé. “After you clean up and explain yourself, I could teach you.”

There’s something in his voice, the way he says it, but Anakin doesn’t understand what. He wishes he were better at reading into things without the help of the Force guiding him; Obi-Wan’s not sending anything his way, and nothing’s leaking through his shields for Anakin to help himself parse more meaning. 

Anakin, not knowing what else to do, nods at the statement while his fingers rub the fabric between them. Obi-Wan pointedly looks at Padmé, and something passes between them. Anakin immediately stops, his heart beating fast. He’s just so out of his element, Padmé warm beside him and Obi-Wan confusing him and looking at him, no admonishing from Padmé, like she doesn’t mind him not focusing on her. 

Anakin swallows, his mouth dry. 

“Let me show you to the ‘fresher, Ani,” Padmé says, hand tightening on his arm to get him to follow.

Leaving Obi-Wan behind, Anakin goes with her. Padmé’s refresher is also ginormous; the sink, like her furniture in the entrance room, is sharp lines with a flat circular basin. Her toilet with a little bidet next to it is a distance from the shower. The shower is accompanied by a large tub. Big enough for her and Obi-Wan to lounge in together, if they’re the type to. Anakin blushes as he tries to imagine it, to see if he could also fit with them. 

Padmé did say he grew up beautiful, too, and Obi-Wan basically threw it at him, he justifies. The reasoning does nothing to ease the burning of his face or the slight queasiness he feels from his nerves at thinking of them all so intimately. 

Anakin stumbles when Padmé stops in front of the tub, not noticing fast enough. Padmé looks on at him, amused, before trailing her hand down his arm. It’s truly a shame Jedi cloaks are so long, Anakin thinks for once, as her hand can’t touch his, his sleeves in the way. 

“I’ll have Obi-Wan find something that can fit you. Please feel to take as long as you like, and use whatever’s here.” 

“Yes, Padmé.” 

She smiles softly at him. “I’m serious, Ani.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Padmé starts to head out. “I’ll see you soon.”

Nodding, Anakin watches her walk out, the door closing behind her. Washing up. He can do that. Flicking the faucets on with the Force, Anakin shrugs his cloak off. It drops heavy to the floor. Next, he undoes his belts and obi, waiting until they join his cloak to start on his tabards and tunics. The water still isn’t very high.

Anakin sits on the side of the tub, dipping his hand in to gauge the temperature. The water’s cool, and he twists more on the hot tab. His boots and leggings join everything else on the floor. Then he pulls his hair tie from the back of his head and undoes his Padawan braid. Finally, he tugs his binder off. 

Sticking his hand in again, the water is passably warm. Slowly, Anakin steps in and sits. The tub definitely could hold the three of them. It seems even bigger resting in it; there’s plenty of space, so maybe no one would have to be practically sitting in someone’s lap. The thought brings yet another blush to his face. Thankfully he’s alone; Anakin doesn’t know if he could get away without being asked this time. 

Padmé has an array of soaps and shampoos, and he doesn’t know why anyone would have so many. Grabbing one that looks the plainest – they all look painfully expensive, Anakin’s almost afraid to use any except he really needs to – he brings it up to examine it. The label is pretty, the brand and a little flower all that decorates it. It’s a yellow bottle, and the ingredient list looks simple enough. 

Putting it down, Anakin looks at the tub. It’s not filled very high due to how wide it is, but he doesn’t want to waste even more water. It’s just him. He doesn’t need a luxurious soak, even if it would be nice; he just needs to get clean, and Padmé and Obi-Wan are waiting on him. 

Anakin turns the tab to shut the water off.

Leaning down, he dips to wet his braid hair. He runs his fingers through to untangle the dirt from it, the strands easily parting for him. It’s quick work. While he’s debating how to wash the rest of his hair, leaning even more forward or resting on his back, there’s a knock on the ‘fresher door. 

Obi-Wan strolls in after, a pile of dark clothes in his arms. Anakin awkwardly hunches forward in the tub; he thought when Padmé said he’d bring him clothes, Obi-Wan would leave them outside the door. He’d thought the knock was just letting him know that the clothes had been brought, not to announce Obi-Wan coming in. Nervous, Anakin watches as he places the clothes on the sink basin, a hand coming to smooth them down immediately after. 

When Obi-Wan turns to look at him, Anakin sucks in a breath. The eyes on him are intense. They send a dangerous spark of arousal through him, and that in itself sends fear chasing down his spine after. He just hopes that Obi-Wan didn’t pick up on it; Anakin doesn’t think he could survive the embarrassment. 

Glancing down at the water level, his gaze skipping past Anakin’s body completely, one of Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raises up. “I hope you weren’t planning to bathe like this.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything, only lifting his head. He doesn’t think anything he says won’t come out overly defensive about his reasoning. 

Clicking his tongue, Obi-Wan flicks his wrist. Water comes rushing out from the faucet. “I assure you, there is no water shortage or rationing on this planet.” His gaze meets Anakin’s.“I know Padmé told you to use whatever’s in here, and she meant to use it properly.”

Anakin feels annoyance at the scolding tone that slips into Obi-Wan’s voice, and he throws it all at him in the Force. It’s juvenile, unbecoming of a Jedi to share such negativity outside a bond, but Anakin doesn’t care. He’s answered with amusement, it just brushing his mind enough to be aware of it, as Obi-Wan leaves without another word. 

Watching him go, Anakin sinks deeper into the water. He doesn’t understand Obi-Wan at all. 

xxxxx

When he comes out of the tub, he’s pruned beyond belief. Anakin took longer than he should have in the bath, but he wanted to do something about the way Obi-Wan treated him. Taking way longer than necessary both followed Padmé’s instructions he pressed on him while probably being annoying. And it felt nice; sitting in a full tub of clean water isn’t something Anakin’s done his whole life, the Temple running mostly on sonics and before that water too scarce for such a wasteful activity. The water enveloping him and the way Padmé’s scented bath bubbles covered its surface was enchanting. 

Anakin wishes he could bathe like that more often. 

Shaking his head, Anakin lets go of that thought; it was a once off opportunity. He pulls apart the clothes Obi-Wan left him. There’s a loose, thin sleep shirt in a deep red and black pants in the same cut as his Jedi ones. Anakin tugs them on; Obi-Wan is close enough in height to him that they fit relatively well, the shirt only a bit snug in the shoulders compared to how Anakin prefers his.

Looking in the mirror, he takes a moment to examine himself outside of his Jedi attire. He thinks that he looks nice; if only he was allowed to wear things other than his tabards and tunics. Shaking his head again, Anakin hurriedly turns to leave the refresher. He has to face Padmé and Obi-Wan. 

The two of them are sitting in the greeting room, the makeup washed from Padmé’s face and her legs crossed at the ankle with Obi-Wan beside her. Anakin swallows, overwhelmingly nervous, when they notice him. Both of their eyes trail down from his face to Obi-Wan’s clothes on him to his pruned fingers. The attention has him hot around the collar, the flush only growing when Obi-Wan raises his eyebrow and opens his mouth. 

“I see you followed Padmé’s directive this time, Ani.”

The scolding tone from earlier is nowhere to be found, Anakin only detecting uncalled for warmth. He wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, his feelings a confused swirl of pleasure at Obi-Wan’s words, embarrassment that he’s pleased, and horror at both of his reactions. 

“Come sit down,” Padmé says kindly, gesturing to the sofa opposite her and her lover. 

Stiffly, Anakin does. His fingers run along the couch as he sits; it’s just like he thought earlier. It’s not as comfortable as a couch for a queen should be, build more for it’s intimidating look. Daring to look Padmé in the eye, just for a moment, Anakin pulls his hands from the sofa into his lap and waits. 

“As much as I’d like to pretend that this is just a pleasure visit, I do have to ask why you, a Jedi, trespassed on my planet, Ani.”

Her voice is elegant, a few touches sterner than earlier but not as regal as Anakin knows she can get it, memories of the invasion swimming in the back of his head. Wetting his lips to stall, just for a moment, Anakin tries to think up how to explain. He doesn’t know how to make it not sound just as bad as it. 

Shrinking into himself, Anakin says, “The Jedi Council are trying to recover a suspected traitor of the Republic, and they fled here. I was following them.”

“The Jedi Council sent a Padawan to Naboo on a mission, knowing full well they nor the Senate have jurisdiction as Naboo is no longer a planet aligned with the Republic? Do I have this right?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Do the Jedi have any idea how large of a war they could bring upon the Republic, not respecting a planet’s sovereignty? I’m sure I could rouse several other nonaligned systems into my cause.”

Anakin’s shoulders hunch. “I wasn’t supposed to get caught by the authorities.”

Obi-Wan snorts and shoots Padmé a look. “That sounds just like them. Throwing their Padawans to the wolves.” 

“It does. Were you alone, Ani? Where’s your master?”

“He’s…not on Naboo. He was in the healing halls the last I saw him.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze gets intense at his hesitation, but he thankfully doesn’t comment. Padmé nods at him before repeating her first question. Flushing, Anakin answers that he was giving chase alone. 

“Good. I’d rather not have another Jedi to deal with. I’d have to be much less accommodating,” her lips lift in a small smile, “Ani.”

Anakin coughs, knowing his face is likely very red. He doesn’t know how to unpack Padmé’s meaning fully. He doesn’t want to read into it what’s not really there, but he thinks that she was flirting with him. Maybe. Or maybe she was just teasing. Swallowing, Anakin proceeds to let out an undignified noise of agreement. 

Padmé’s smile gets amused, and Obi-Wan’s lips twitch under his beard. “You’ll have to leave Naboo empty handed, Ani. But onto lighter things; would you like dinner? Obi-Wan tells me I make a passable pot of noodles and sauce.”

That startles a laugh out of him. Anakin feels a smile overtake his face, and he twists Obi-Wan’s pants between his fingers. “A pot of noodles and sauce would be lovely, thank you. I could help out?”

He’s waved off as Padmé stands and starts retreating. “You can make us breakfast before you leave tomorrow morning. Neither Obi-Wan or I excel at morning foods.”

“I could set the table?”

“You don’t even know where Padmé keeps anything,” Obi-Wan says, uncrossing his legs so both feet touch the floor. “Let Padmé do this, Ani.”

Knowing he’s outmatched, Anakin nods. He cautiously looks about the greeting room, highly aware it’s going to just be him and Obi-Wan, a Force sensitive who’s not a Jedi, for the next ten minutes, at the least. Pulling on the pants he’s wearing, Anakin lets his gaze fall onto Obi-Wan again; the man is watching him, a little smirk on his face. Anakin lifts his chin, knowing that regardless, Obi-Wan can more than likely sense his nervousness. 

“You’re adorable, Ani.” 

As the words leave Obi-Wan’s mouth, Anakin also feels the warmth Obi-Wan projects at him in the Force. He swallows, overwhelmed. Tonight is not like he expected it to be, at all. The amount of unexpected affection fills an empty hole in him that Anakin tries to ignore. His fingers curl into fists as Obi-Wan rises and comes to sit beside him. Anakin feels as if he’s going to drown if Obi-Wan keeps interacting with him like this; he doesn’t even want to think about when Padmé comes back. 

“I believe I offered to teach you my little hiding trick earlier.”

Nodding, relieved at having a topic to focus on, Anakin looks at him. “Yeah.”

Obi-Wan brings a hand up to his temple, hovering but not touching. Anakin blinks. 

“You can touch me.”

His smirk grows. Anakin fights to not let out a sense of pleasure in the Force, Obi-Wan’s fingers pressing against his skin. It feels nice, and Obi-Wan’s eyes are unnaturally bright this close. He wonders if Obi-Wan is wearing contacts. 

“You’re the brightest Force presence I’ve ever encountered, so I don’t know just how successful this will be. The objective is to scatter your presence so it just feels like the Force itself, flowing through the environment. It’s more effective than just cloaking yourself if someone’s actively looking for you.” Quirking an eyebrow, Obi-Wan taps his fingers. “You have much more presence than a simple room has in spades.”

Mouth on autopilot, Anakin murmurs, “’m more interesting, too.”

“Of course you are, Ani. Now, we don’t have a bond, so forgive me the intrusion.”

Anakin gasps as Obi-Wan brushes against his mind, his signature blazing hot and overwhelming. Swallowing, Anakin lets him in, throwing up more shields to strengthen the protection of the darker corners of his mind as Obi-Wan washes over him. He can feel Obi-Wan’s curiosity, but he ignores it. Pulling on Obi-Wan in his mind, Anakin pushes at him the thought to start. 

Laughing, Obi-Wan taps his temple again. “First, you need to feel how strong the environment is. Let the Force flow through you and read how much is here.”

Reaching out, Anakin tries. The Force dances around him, ready for him to wield and meld to his will, whispering his name, but he doesn’t know how to examine how much there is. It’s never mattered; a Jedi can use the Force anywhere so long as there’s no Force inhibitors. The Force is everywhere. It’s not as loud as at the Temple here, all the Jedi’s own presences amplifying the Force, but that’s all Anakin can really pick up.

Obi-Wan pulls at him, heat burning in Anakin’s mind. “Just how quiet is it here?”

Screwing his eyes, Anakin tries to figure out. He drops down into the Force, the flow and the ebb of it, Obi-Wan only the slightest tether in the sea. The Force dances around the walls and through them, surges of power coursing through everything, breathing as easy as anything. There’s little flits of the inhabitants of the building, their thoughts and their emotions and their hopes and their pasts and their possibilities, coming to him. There are so many people and creatures in the castle. So, so many possibilities and so much sorrow and joy and anger–just a little longer, how could i have messed this up, it’s almost time to see my wife, the queen has said–

Anakin gasps at the onslaught, pulling out and away from Obi-Wan’s hand. Taking deep breathes, he brings a hand to his chest, trying to ground himself. He’s in Padmé’s greeting room, and he’s Anakin Skywalker, Padawan learner. He’s nineteen in standard years. Nothing tragic or blessed is happening to him. It’s only him, and Obi-Wan. Only him in his brain. Only him. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks, his hand hovering in the air where Anakin tore away from it. “Ani?”

Sucking in air, Anakin continually nods his head, trying to realign with himself. He blinks and looks around the room, his chest heaving. His fingers fist in his shirt. “I…I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not, Ani.”

“Fine. I’m absolutely fine. Perfect.” Anakin shakes, his fingers tightening, tightening, tightening in his shirt, his breathing not balancing out. He’s been doing so well not loosing himself to the Force–he was doing so well not getting overwhelmed by it talking to him, not drowning in the chatter–

“Stop. Ani, stop.” Obi-Wan’s hands cradle his face, bright eyes locking with his.

Shaking his head, Anakin tries to pull away. “I’m fine.” Anakin blinks back tears, why can’t he let it all go. “I just lost control.”

“That’s okay.”

Scoffing, Anakin can’t stop shaking his head. He’s a Jedi, a Padawan, the Chosen One, he shouldn’t be such a youngling. He shouldn’t have lapses like this just examining the Force. He’s supposed to be better. He has to be better. 

“Ani. Stop thinking.” 

Soft tendrils of tranquility curl around his mind, asking to be let in. The fact that Obi-Wan feels the need to help him almost makes Anakin want to say no – if Obi-Wan was a Jedi, he wouldn’t even have to think about rejecting the help. It would make everything worse. But he’s not a Jedi, and the feeling is so, so tempting. Anakin hates being consumed like this. Maybe Obi-Wan won’t hold it against him.

Shamefaced, Anakin opens his mind once again. Obi-Wan wraps him in calmness, the warmth he projects happily accepted. Anakin closes his eyes as his heart rate slows down and the tremors throughout his body stop. His fingers loosen on his shirt. His mind is quiet, his thoughts not screaming at him and warring for the forefront of his conscious as Obi-Wan continues to wrap him in calm. Anakin sucks in a lungful of air. He lets it out. 

In and out. In and out. 

He doesn’t want to open his eyes and see whatever expression Obi-Wan has waiting for him. The last time someone helped him, there was so much disappointment that he couldn’t control himself. He just wants to stay in his head, soaking up all that Obi-Wan is giving him to stop the storm. But Anakin can’t hide forever. Steeling himself, Anakin looks at his companion. Obi-Wan greets him with a smile. It’s a little worried, but it’s pleased to see him. 

Anakin hesitantly smiles back, surprise and relief churning in his gut. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” Obi-Wan’s hands on his face are warm, his blue eyes even brighter. “What happened?”

Shaking his head, Anakin pulls himself away from Obi-Wan’s hands, from the warmth of him. As soon as it’s gone, Anakin misses it. But he doesn’t want to talk about what just happened; he shouldn’t keep being this needy. It’s not Obi-Wan’s problem anymore. “Nothing.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows, but before he can say anything, Padmé returns from the kitchen with a serving tray. Anakin happily diverts his attention onto her, examining the way she holds their dinner and how nice her kitchenware is. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so nice in person before. The tray looks like it’s real precious metal, more ornate than the ones in the dining halls. There’s delicate swirls carved along it and shine. On the tray, the bowls are finely painted by hand. A peaceful ocean with plenty of fish hold their noodles and sauce. 

Anakin wants to examine it, the brushstrokes and the detail work, but he refrains. No need to further remind Padmé that he’s so much lesser of than her. 

Padmé swiftly settles herself on Anakin’s other side. Their dinner gets placed on the caf table, and her eyes sweep over the mess she’s interrupted. Anakin fights the urge to fiddle with his fingers; Padmé immediately turns her focus on him. Her attention makes him want to sink into the floor. She’s going to ask if he’s okay, too. 

“Ani, what happened?”

Shaking his head, Anakin replies, “Nothing. Obi-Wan was just trying to teach me that hiding trick.”

“Was he, now?” She looks at Obi-Wan. “So what did you do? I wasn’t even gone long.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he says at the same time Anakin jumps in with, “He didn’t do anything!”

Flushing at the annoyed look that grows on Padmé’s face, Anakin swallows. Padmé turns back to face him, and she gently puts her hand on his knee. 

“Well, if you’re both sure nothing happened,” her eyes pointedly go to Obi-Wan, “I guess now’s the moment of truth: is Obi-Wan just being flattering about my cooking abilities?”

“I’d hardly call telling you that it’s passable flattering.”

Anakin bites his lip as the two of them continue on, hands reaching for a bowl. It doesn’t look bad, just like smooth sauce and noodles. He blows on his first spoonful, and opens his mouth. 

It’s bland. Really bland. 

Swallowing, Anakin shakes his head. By Coruscant standards, it’s probably passable. He has no clue about on Naboo, but back home this would be terrible. “It’s…passable, like Obi-Wan said.”


End file.
